


Christmas 1899

by Firecracker_Newsie (Enjolras_The_Survivor)



Category: Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Fever, Flu, Fluff, Sick Character, Sickfic, Vomiting, be careful if any tag triggers you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:42:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27743926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enjolras_The_Survivor/pseuds/Firecracker_Newsie
Comments: 4
Kudos: 1





	Christmas 1899

**Author's Note:**

  * For [averyleigh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/averyleigh/gifts).



*Christmas Eve*

Specs was worried. Specs was not normally worried when a big turkey has just been delivered, and a box of close-enough-to-new-that-they-didn't-have-holes-in-them clothes had been delivered with it. But Jack was sick, enough to have stayed in bed with Crutchie looking after him, and Race hadn't gone to Brooklyn either, staying close to Specs. Specs had taken a bowl of broth to Jack before he left to sell, but it didn't stay down. The leader of the Manhattan newsies was pale and feverish, but coherent for now. That was something at least. "Crutchie, go and eat something, please. We don't need you gettin' sick as well." Race pleaded with Jack's shadow. The shadow in question responded by emphatically shaking his head. Great. Christmas was supposed to be a time of goodwill and peace on earth, but frankly, peace was the one thing the lodging house never got! "I ain't leaving my brother! I's can eat if youse needs me to, but I ain't leaving Jackie while he's like this." Okay, so Crutchie was fine, apart from the worry plaguing the older newsies. "I'll get ya somethin', Crutch. You and Racer keep Jack company." Specs left the bunkroom, and when he returned with a hunk of bread and cheese for Crutchie, he found Race protectively curled around Jack, his lanky arms spilling into the paths between the bunks. "Hi Specs," Jack croaked, every syllable passing over sandpaper to escape into the lodging house.

"Okay guys, the plan of action is Davey's bringing the socks Sarah knitted over, Race is going to Brooklyn to converse with Spot, see if he can cash in a favour for us, Katherine said she was bringing something but she refused to tell me anything about it, and Klopp-sorry, _Santa_ 's going to put the presents by the bunks. Tumbler can probably come in the main area if we keeps him warm, and Itey should be able to do the same tomorrow."

"What about Jack, Specs?"

"Littles out, only those over ten can stay." Once the small children exit the room, shepherded out by Finch, Specs continues. "He's not doing well, Albert, I sent Race to Brooklyn to see if he can cash a favour to get a doc outta Spot. Crutchie is asleep in his chair beside Jack's bed."

*Early hours of Christmas morning*

"S'a fire, get me out!"

"Shh, Jack, you're breaking a fever, that's all. The doc said you had flu, but youse gonna be fine. You're at the Lodge with me - Crutchie - and Race, and Katherine's just arrived, since apparently 6am is a lie-in for us. She'd like ta see youse, if youse up to it?"

"Yeah, I'se up to seeing my goirlfriend - don't you two whistle - she looks afta me nearly s'good as Crutchie."

"Hey Jack, I hope this helps you get better. I heard you broke your fever, good on you." Kath hands him a soft blanket, and Specs leaves, presumably to update Albert. When he returns, holding a steaming mug of coffee, Kath's blanket is lumpy, with several balls of newsie on top of it too. Itey and Tumbler are wrapped around each other on top of the blanket, with Race, Jack and Crutchie underneath it. Albert appears to be leaning up against the bed, one arm under the blanket, one on top. "Thanks Kath, are ya staying for turkey?"

"Yup! I don't want to stay at home for another stuffy Christmas full of ancient outdated traditions and anyway, my father's not been the same since Mum passed on."

"That sucks, but youse always got a place at the newsie table. We don't got much, but we have, we share."

"Thanks, Specs."

"You're welcome!"


End file.
